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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29485275">Burning Red</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/butimaloneandfree/pseuds/butimaloneandfree'>butimaloneandfree</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supergirl (TV 2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Whump, aiming for season one vibes, alex is an overprotective sister, injured because i forkin love whump, no swearing we curse like we're in the good place, red sun, this is the start of the adult round of everyone needing therapy, where was kara when the sun turned red?, you can swear in the comments idc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:22:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,120</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29485275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/butimaloneandfree/pseuds/butimaloneandfree</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kara, in the years since coming to Earth, has gotten good at this. She works at an excruciatingly slow pace, just fast enough that Ms. Grant won’t complain. She adds trips and stumbles into her stride, in a carefully choreographed dance that keeps her klutziness looking authentic without breaking a tile. She ignores the cries for help she can hear three blocks away. </p><p>Because the deal is that if she hides her powers, everyone stays safe.</p><p>-----</p><p>Hiding was supposed to keep Kara safe. No one counted on her being collateral damage when Lex Luthor turned the sun red.</p><p>Set about two years before season one.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex Danvers &amp; J'onn J'onzz | Hank Henshaw, Alex Danvers &amp; Kara Danvers, Alex Danvers &amp; Winn Schott Jr., Kara Danvers &amp; Winn Schott Jr.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Go Save the World, I'll Wait Around</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I always wondered what Kara was up to when Lex turned the sun red. Lena was zip tied to a chair, James was kidnapped, and Clark was fighting Lex, but Kara would've also been affected. So, here's my take.</p><p>Title is a Taylor Swift lyric because I'm a swiftie and also in a shameless ploy to attract other swifties. Come be angsty with me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There are a few rules that comes with being an alien on a foreign planet. Control your powers, of course, because they can destroy much faster than they can create. Keep your head down. Blend in. And in exchange, you’ll be safe.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kara, in the years since coming to Earth, has gotten good at this. She works at an excruciatingly slow pace, just fast enough that Ms. Grant won’t complain. She adds trips and stumbles into her stride, in a carefully choreographed dance that keeps her klutziness looking authentic without breaking a tile. She ignores the cries for help she can hear three blocks away. She spends so much energy being normal, it’s almost enough to keep her from being bored.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And yes, she’s bored. And yes, it hurts every time she doesn’t help someone. But it’s a small price to pay for safety. Even if she were willing to risk her own safety, which she is, Alex and Eliza already lost one person to her carelessness. She wouldn’t let another member of her small family get hurt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So, when Ms. Grant’s latte gets cold, she uses a microwave. When Ms. Grant piles on work, she stays late to give enough time for a normal person to finish it. Because the deal is that if she hides her powers, everyone stays safe.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kara Danvers is sitting at her desk outside Ms. Grant’s office, typing at a very human speed, when a wave of lightheadedness washes over her, in a way she hasn’t felt since she left Krypton.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Later, she will find out it was Lex Luthor, in a fit of rage against her cousin. Later, she will watch the news in horror, for days that turned into weeks, as they find out the full extent of the damage.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But for the first few seconds, she feels peace. Quiet. Like sitting down on the couch after a long day at work. It’s bliss.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It’s a few seconds later that she hears the first shouts. They snaps her out of her daze. An unease ripples through the office and she moves toward the balcony with what feels like the entire floor. And that’s when she finally sees what all the fuss is about. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The sun is red. She steps onto the balcony and for a moment, it feels like a miracle. For a second, she lets herself believe it isn’t Earth’s sun in front of her, it’s Rao, in all his glory. Rao, gifting her with quiet for the first time in thirteen years, as her super senses fade away. She takes off her glasses and the buildings keep their skin off. She grips the railing and it stands against her, strong, supportive. A wave of nostalgia washes over her, for the life she could’ve had. She clings to the railing with all her might, like it might ground her as the past blurs with the present, and the bar doesn’t even flinch. For the first time in her life, she’s just like any other human. It’s a relief.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The screams start only a few minutes later.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It seems inevitable, in retrospect. Humans don’t deal with change well. Even without any advanced space travel, they know they’re small on this rock, flying through the universe. Society relies on universal buy-in: an agreement to follow the rules for everyone’s good. In the face of a cosmic event, those rules start to fail. Drivers look at the sun and crash into a building. People start raiding stores, picking fights, looking for excuses to take out their emotions on someone else.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> People need help, but she can’t give it to them. Not because she’s supposed to keep a secret, but because that secret’s gone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That, alone, makes her feel light enough to fly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The staff meeting was supposed to start fifteen seconds ago, so unless something on that balcony is offering you a new job, you’d better be in my office by the time I make it to my desk,” Ms. Grant’s voice jolts everyone back to Earth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The newer CatCo employees stare at Ms. Grant. The veterans simply grumble as they make their way inside.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ms. Grant, something’s wrong with the sun.” Kara says, and she knows she sounds like a toddler, but honestly how else is she supposed to explain it?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes, the sun is red, and unless the world stops turning the magazine goes to print tomorrow and if it does stop turning, I need the gazette on that story. Inside. Now.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The staff meeting is bizarrely normal, and Kara wonders briefly if she’s dreaming. Ms. Grant treats the biggest ecological disaster and global crisis in Earth’s history like a minor Earthquake: an inconvenience to be worked around with a gold mine of stories to be plundered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Finally, assignments are divided up, pitches have been made, and the meeting begins to wind down.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “There must be something we can do to help,” one of the reporters says, when Ms. Grant starts to dismiss them, and Kara nods furiously. This is why she took the job, after all. If she can’t use her powers in a crisis, she needed to be in a job where she could help some other way.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We are helping. Is it the red sun crashing cars? Is the change in UV rays making people violent? No. This is happening because people are scared. And when people are scared, they lash out, and they look to us.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What about Superman?” Another reporter piped up. “Why isn’t he helping?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He loses his powers under the red sun,” Kara mutters, before she can stop herself. Some red-sun-induced wooziness and it seemed ten years of filter crumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What was that, Kiera?” Ms. Grant asked, and Kara bit back a sigh as she scrambled to remember what was public knowledge.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Superman gets his powers from the sun, right? Maybe the reason we haven’t seen him anywhere is because the red sun affects his powers.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Interesting theory,” Ms. Grant muses. “You! Snapper. Explore that. Everyone else, back to work. We have a crisis on our hands, the people need to know they can rely on us.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kara breathes a sigh of relief as the reporters file out of the room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, and Kiera?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kara freezes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Get me another latte.” Ms. Grant says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right now? It’s chaos out there,” Kara protests.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes, and that means more work for us and that’s why I need a latte. Now, chop chop.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Unsure what else to do, Kara leaves Ms. Grant’s office and head’s toward the elevator.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She’s halfway there when Winn catches up to her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hey, whatcha doing?” He asks, like it’s a normal day and they’re walking to lunch.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Heading to Noonan’s,” Kara says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right now?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ms. Grant wants another latte.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s basically a war zone out there.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Which is why, according to Ms. Grant, she needs a latte.” Kara presses the call button for the elevator.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s absurd, that is beyond the call of duty, okay. Do you want me to talk to her?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t think that would help.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It definitely won’t, and she terrifies me, but I will do it if that’s what it takes because you cannot go out there.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, I’ll be fine, I—“ Kara trails off, realizing she doesn’t actually have any reason to believe she’s going to be fine. “I’m resourceful” That has to be true, right?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t think resourcefulness protects from anarchy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No it’ll be oka—“ Kara trips on the edge of the carpet, and Winn catches her. It’s thrilling, being caught. It makes her feel like a kid again, back when she thought her parents could protect her from anything. It’s a wonderful feeling, to be equal with someone else. To be able to touch them the same way they touch you. Kara fights the corners of her lips that threaten to pull into a smile.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Winn’s looking at her weird when she finally pulls herself back together. Time passes differently without her powers.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m going with you,” he says, and her halfhearted protests fall on deaf ears.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They make it halfway to Noonan’s.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Halfway down the block, the route she spends nearly as much time walking as she does sitting at her desk, with lattes and lunch and dinner and sometimes even alcohol, on the really late nights, even though Noonan’s isn’t supposed to let her carry drinks out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The red sun is shining overhead, and if she closes her eyes she can almost imagine she’s near the forum in Argo City on Krypton, just a few blocks from their apartment. If she squints and angles her head the right way, she can almost imagine it’s a normal day in National City. The dichotomy is enough to give her a headache.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Even without her superhearing, she can hear the pain around her. The windows on the bottom floor of CatCo are smashed, as are the windows at the convenience store. She can hear gunshots in the distance, and she walks a little bit faster. She walks past a man screaming for his kid, and it takes everything in her not to stop and help him look.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It’s probably a good thing her powers are gone, she realizes. If she could help, she’s not sure she could resist on a day like today.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She hears the squeal of tires on the pavement at the same time as everyone else as a slick sports car flies around the corner a block and a half away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A little boy, maybe eight years old, halfway through crossing the street, hears it too. He freezes. His eyes wide, his feet bolted to the pavement as he stares down death.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The car shows no sign of slowing as it barrels down the narrow city street.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Winn notices her connect the dots just a second too late. “Kara!” She hears him yell behind her, but she’s already out of reach, racing the car to reach the kid before he’s hit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kara’s not used to running as fast as she can. She’s not used to giving all she’s got. By the time she realizes she needs to adapt her effort for the lack of powers, the race is close. Too close.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She reaches the kid, and as she feels her hands (actually <em>feels </em>her hands, she marvels) push against his shoulder, she thinks she might make it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But she isn’t used to giving it her all, and she’s slowed herself on instinct, to keep her hands from pushing through the kid’s torso instead of pushing him to safety.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The car’s frame hits her squarely in the chest and Kara, for the first time in a very long time, feels pain. It erupts through her rib cage, and triples as her shoulder and skull smack the concrete in quick succession.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The already muffled world spins and darkens around her as she lies in the street.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The car speeds away.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. You'd Be Here By Now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>*chanting softly* "whump whump whump whump"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The concrete is rough against her cheek, and hard against her shoulder. She’s pretty sure she knew concrete was rough and hard, technically, but it’s the first time she’s ever felt it.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The thought is a nice distraction from the other new sensation; pain.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It comes in waves, washing over her, turning her over that she thinks she might drown in it. It’s sharp in some places and blooming in others and she never knew there were so many different types of pain. She fights it, wrestles it, trying to get on top of the waves before they pull her under.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Being human is just full of surprises.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Winn is there suddenly, so suddenly that she wonders if he has superpowers, before she remembers that it isn’t that he’s powered, it’s that she isn’t.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh my god, Kara,” he says, and alarm bells go off in her head. This is attention. She’s attracting attention. She isn’t supposed to attract attention.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> People are looking at her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Never mind that no one who witnessed that would ever think to accuse her of being Kryptonian. She feels exposed and vulnerable, and all she can think of is finding cover.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Stay hidden and everyone stays safe.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She needs to get up. The pain is making it hard to think, or maybe it’s the red sun or hitting her head. She knows humans aren’t supposed to hit their heads. But her legs must still work. There’s substantially less pain coming from there. She can walk away. People will stop staring, and in the chaos of today, no one will even make note.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She takes a breath, preparing to get up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Another breath, deeper this time, and her chest screams its disagreement.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Okay</em> she thinks<em> only little breaths.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She’s pretty sure Winn is saying something, but she doesn’t have the energy to process that right now.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With her good arm, she pushes herself off the pavement. The pain, somehow, increases. She never would have thought it possible, but it does. Still, she’s upright.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> One more little breath and she stands up. The world tilts, and she wonders it it’s an earthquake.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Whoa, careful” Winn says, grabbing her by the shoulders. She doesn’t want to lean on him, is aware that this is betraying her attempts at ‘I’m fine’, but he feels shockingly sturdy and somehow is moving in sync with the ground.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He seems unfazed by the moving ground. It’s just her, then.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They’re across the street from CatCo, and logic, she knows, dictates they should go there. Away from the danger of the streets, near access to more resources. But the only person she would consider asking for help, and she’s not too keen on the idea of crossing the street again, after the last time went so well, so instead she shifts her weight toward the nearby alley, pulling Winn with her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Let’s just get out of the street” she says, with all the authority she can muster, and Winn, for his part, doesn’t argue.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It’s exhausting. The world keeps spinning faster, like a wound up spring she’s pulling tighter with every step. But after an eternity and yet only a minute there’s a musty alley wall in front of her and it’s even sturdier than Winn.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She slides down it and it hurts where her skin rubs against the brick. She didn’t know skin was so fragile.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She leans against the wall. If she could just cling to something, anything, she’s sure she could stop the world from spinning.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Blood beads along a cut on her hand. She looks at it in wonder. It’s red, of course it is red, just like it had been on Krypton, but she hadn’t seen it in so long, she’d begun to wonder.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “-ara”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Winn’s standing over her, looking a lot less favorably at her hand than she had been.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m finnnee,” she says, and it sounds slow to her. Did she say it slow? She’s not sure. Everything is too fast or too slow, today. Too fast a car, for too slow a Kara. She giggles to herself at that. ‘Car for Kara’. They rhyme. Or something.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay, I think you have a concussion.” Winn says, and she realizes she’d forgotten he was there. “I need you to pay attention while I call an ambulance.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That gets through the haze.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Winn looks at her like she’d just confirmed her need for medical attention.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t—“ she tries to think of a reason she can’t get in an ambulance, but she’s not good at lies on a normal day and now the world won’t stop spinning long enough for her to find an answer.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You got hit by a car, and now you can’t finish a sentence. I’m calling an ambulance.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She giggles again. It’s not funny, probably, but it’s ironic and blending in was supposed to keep everyone safe, but here she was, bleeding on the sidewalk. She’d been so worried about keeping Alex and Eliza safe, that she hadn’t considered this was a possibility.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> How was she supposed to know <em>all </em>her powers were gone?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em> Alex</em>. She needed to call Alex.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I need to call my sister,” Kara says.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay, after you get an ambulance.” Winn says, and he holds his phone to his ear.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, my sister’s a doctor. Kinda. She went to some med school.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not sure that counts.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, there are other people who need the ambulance more. I’ll be fine.” Her heart races. An ambulance means witnesses. Witnesses mean questions. Doctors work with the government. She can’t let him call an ambulance.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I keep getting a busy signal” Winn mutters, finally putting the phone down. Kara breathes a sigh of relief. One bullet dodged.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll call Alex” she says, and she holds the 1 button for the speed dial on her old flip phone.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You got hit by a car,” Winn protests, but he doesn’t have any other ideas.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The phone rings, rings, and rings and for a second Kara lets herself believe everything will be okay.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Then the voicemail answers.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kara?” Winn asks, and she can’t look at him because he’s obviously just a few seconds from freaking out and she doesn’t know how to stop that.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “She didn’t answer, I’ll try again.” Kara says to the ground.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She holds 1 again, and again it’s four rings, and then a voicemail.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Four rings and the same voicemail. “Hi, this is Alex…” taunting her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kara’s heart is racing again. What if something’s happened to her. What if the red sun caused an accident in her lab? Or if she was out getting coffee and there were looters? What if—</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kara, maybe we should try something else.” Winn, mercifully, derails that train of thought.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “She works in a lab so sometimes she doesn’t have her phone, because of safety precautions. I’ll try again.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kara, you don’t look great.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thanks,” she says, and she’s not sure she gets the voice right for sarcasm.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you sure you feel okay?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Words seem tricky, so she nods instead. It feels like she’s knocking an anvil around inside her skull. <em>That was a mistake.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Winn looks worried. She needs to fix this. She needs to stop drawing attention.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We could go to CatCo, if that would help,” she says. She’s not sure how that could possibly help, but at least it’s a suggestion. But CatCo means moving.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She can do it. She has to do it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She doesn’t even make it fully upright before her vision turns black, and then the world isn’t spinning anymore because it isn’t there at all.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you everyone for all your kind comments last week! I'm terrible at communication but I'm determined to go thank each of you individually. But I figured y'all'd rather have the chapter now than wait for me to get my social anxiety together. </p>
<p>As always, comments (even keyboard smashes) bring the next chapter faster (as does stress in my personal life, oops). Next chapter we get to see Alex!</p>
<p>Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed!</p>
<p>(Bonus points to anyone who recognizes the Taylor Swift lyric in the title)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. You Were On My Side</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alex has a lot of missed calls.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Alex wouldn’t say she <em>loves </em>her new job at the DEO. Even ‘like’ might be too strong a word. She tolerates it. She appreciates the idea of what it could be. Keeping the world safe? Being able to talk openly about aliens with people who won’t call her crazy? That appeals to her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Getting beaten in hand-to-hand combat training for eight hours a day every day? Not so much.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Alex hits the floor with a thud and a groan, her sweat slipping on the mat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That was better, Danvers,” Agent Vasquez calls out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Tell that to my ribs.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Vasquez lets a grin slip at that, “they’ll heal.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Alex hoists herself up, panting hard. She reaches for her water bottle and downing it in one chug.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Good time for a breather.” Vasquez says, and Alex is at least happy to see she’s out of breath too. Three months is all it took for Alex to at least wear her opponent out as she’s getting her butt kicked. “Go grab us some refills, recruit.” The words are formal, but the smile on Vasquez’s face betrays her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Alex happily obliges. She scurries out of the quiet of the training room, water bottles in tow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The control room, when Alex walks by on her way to the water station, is chaos.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is this normal?” She asks the nearest person, even though a sinking feeling in her gut is screaming that it’s not. She’s seen the energy of this room bringing down a hellgrammite and no one had so much as broken a sweat. Now, decorum has been abandoned for the sake of efficiency as they all-but sprint across the room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Lex Luthor turned the sun red” a agent calls out as he passes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Alex’s heart drops.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Vaguely, she can hear Hank barking at the team but Alex is already gone. It’s like the order to <em>move</em> has gone straight from her heart to her legs and without a thoughtshe’s sprinting to the locker, where her phone sits, for use only during breaks, thankful for the last three months of training that made her thighs so powerful. She makes it there barely winded, and while her hands tremble as they spin the lock, they don’t miss the numbers.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Her phone has three missed calls, and a text she doesn’t bother to read because now she can’t breathe and she’s already smashed the call back button.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She’s holding her breath as it rings, and rings, and rings, until finally the call’s answered. She can hear street noises through the line and the relief washes over her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kara, listen to me, you need to get somewhere safe, Lex Luthor turned the sun red and-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Um, hi?” A voice cuts her off. It’s not Kara’s voice, and Alex is trying really hard to stay calm but her stomach has sunk so low she’s not sure it even exists anymore.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Who the hell is this?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Winn?“ It’s a man and he sounds panicked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Win what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, Winn, um, my name’s Winn. I think Kara was trying to call you and she couldn’t get through but then her phone started ringing and I thought maybe it was y-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Where’s Kara?” It’s like talking to a child, Alex would be frustrated with him if she had any room to fit that emotion around the fear.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kara! Kara’s right here.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Put her on,” Alex commands, all the force of three months black ops training behind her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “She passed out. Sorry, I probably should have led with that. I tried to call an ambulance but I couldn’t get through, and she said you’re a doctor? Or something?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Alex steadies herself against her locker, trying to force her brain to click into the composed agent mode she can usually do, the one that’s seen her through the OR and ER and a few moments of gunfire in action.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Where are you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He tells her they’re by CatCo and that’s all she needs. She turns, racing out the locker room, down the hall, up the stairs. She bursts into the central command, her explanation for why she needs to leave bubbling to her lips. But she doesn’t even have to ask Hank. He must’ve been able to read it on her face, she figures, because the instant she turns to him he tells her “go”.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She cuts through traffic on her motorcycle in half the time it would’ve taken a car, dialing Vasquez with one hand as she weaves.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Alex?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I need you to send a med-evac to 420 South Flower street.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There’s a pause on the other end. “How did your water run end in a med-evac on the other side of town?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Lex Luthor turned the sun red. Kara’s hurt, and she needs medical attention.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Your sister?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Another pause, and Alex tries to reign in the hysteria she’s sure is seeping into her voice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Med-evacs are for agents.” Vasquez says, finally</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “She’s important.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know you care about her, but we can’t use med-evacs on family members. Besides, there are hospitals closer than the DEO.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Alex bits her lip. Her next words go against everything she’s had drilled into her for the past thirteen years, but she doesn’t see another choice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “She’s Superman’s cousin.” Alex says, finally. “Biological cousin. Do you think Superman would appreciate it if we-”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Alex cuts off because <em>let his cousin die </em>burns as she tries to roll it off her tongue. It’s silence, dead silence, on the other end, until finally-</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can send one from the city base. They’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Alex hangs up, and even if the knot in her stomach hasn’t shifted, it loosens a bit. At least there’s help coming. At least she isn’t alone in this. If this med-evac makes sure Kara’s okay, she promises herself, she’ll never complain about training again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The sun is red overhead, the color she associates with sunset, but the angle is wrong and none of this feels real. It can’t be real. But she doesn’t think she could imagine the screams she keeps hearing, from crashes and muggings and horror, as she barrels through intersection after intersection.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Hang in there, Kara</em>.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Poor Alex.... Honestly, this fic is a lot more traumatizing for her than Kara. Kara's always been a bit too into self-sacrifice for her own good, even before she had the cape as an excuse. </p><p>I had kinda abandoned this but then it turns out people were actually reading it?? So anyway, ask and ye shall receive.<br/>As always, comments inspire more chapters.</p><p>Fun fact, the CatCo address is the address of the actual building in LA that plays CatCo on the show. In other filming location fun facts; the original location of the set for Kara's loft is actually on Hope Street. What are the odds? Here we all thought the writers were being dramatic. </p><p>Chapter title is from Fearless this time around, in honor of Fearless (Taylor's Version).</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please tip your friendly neighborhood fae on the way out. Keyboard smashes are completely acceptable. All comments make the next chapter come faster.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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